


Here

by delevade



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Magic Rituals, Metaphors, Translation from Russian into English, ghost - Freeform, mental health, removal of death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-05 03:04:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17316863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delevade/pseuds/delevade
Summary: Hinata used to say that everything would be fine.And the laugh, meanwhile, didn't make life longer.





	Here

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Здесь](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/446840) by delevade. 



> I can be not so good at translating works. Actually, it's my first experience. If you notice any mistake don't be afraid and let me know about it. Also, I am looking for people who can help me with translating my works from Russian into English (knowing the Russian language is not necessary, understanding my broken English is enough :P). By the way, not all my works are full of metaphors and other things that are hard to translate. Well, I hope.  
> let me know if you think that my language skills are not good enough to make the literary translation and I will think one more time before posting another work here. Maybe it's not the time.
> 
> Thanks a lot for patience.

He, probably, was absolutely out of his mind. He had been there for hour after hour, eyes burrowing into the mirror like if he tried to take himself and shades of his puffy eyes apart. Or maybe it was just that shitty layers of the mirror, which were just - glass, solution, silver, copper or chemicals to taste, - and it was all, actually, the same all the time. Tobio punched it all with his view and looked for oxygen between the layers, looked for the pulse in cracks of his reflection, for something that he could put into a huge dark mark, the tunnel inside of his spitting with a longing heart. Which, judging by feelings, was disintegrating to atoms. Stupid muscle, full of holes. Full of little bleeding bullet holes burns from tears, which he wrung out of his pillow every morning. 

It was the third month and he still was some snivelling dummy, who continued to lie down like a wet useless handful of something on his bed. He justified and cursed himself indefinitely because someone's leaving into the fucking nothingness turned out to be a good reason for being the last asshole on this planet (he hoped it would burn in the Sun)  
(he hoped everyone would choke on their laugh and happiness, all of these nasty «everything-will-be-okay-philes)

Hinata used to say that everything would be fine.  
And the laugh, meanwhile, didn't make life longer.

Kageyama was just an idiot who had lost his tandem. An idiot who had only «tan» or «dem» left on his hands in bloodstains. No, he hadn't cried, it was just his fucking soul tearing itself apart and falling as tears on the flour, on his palms. He squeezed his eyes so tight hoping that they would burst. Tobio didn't want to see the world with its «I want» anymore.  
His eyes were bursting with ruptured blood vessels so stubborn, that it was visible from miles away. That was how Kageyama despised the sleep. He rubbed the skin under his eyes to rip the tear ducts accidentally so he wouldn't be able to give any drop of him to this world. Any gram of carbon dioxide, any word, any exhalation. Just because. Because why the «I want» of the world, fate, god or someone else who doesn't give a shit about anyone is important and Tobio“s «I want» he can stick into any of his body holes.  
Because how he could give himself to the reality if it hadn't given him even Hinata?

When teenage maximalism connected with absolutely adverse habitat, all the consequences became the filling of Tobio. He had been living as one shitty misunderstanding. As if he existed only in someone's head, at a tattered piece of paper; he was a cloud of dust in the air.

He had been looking in the mirror for hours and thinking «oh my god how did it even happen». He thought «oh my god just let me fall asleep and don't let me wake up» because it was the way it worked, wasn't it? What else did he not understand?  
Someone told him once, that people should try to control the way their brains work, control not only their tongue but the attitude too. Any of the thought will go to space. Send positive energy and positive energy will return to you. If that thing, which had returned to Kageyama was the positive and happiness, so it was probably sent as a brick on his head. Because everything had returned to him as a hearse, as a little and accurate coffin, perfectly suitable for the owner. As a coffin, in which Tobio couldn't get in even if wanted very much.  
No, actually, he could get in. He just didn't want to.  
Well, at first.

He spent several hours watching heaps of useless videos, looking for some theory to rely on. Some theory, in which he could just drop this face waiting for the laws of the universe had their job done. First, his attempt hadn't been successful, the night was quiet and calm, Kageyama hadn't heard any sound. Actually, he didn't even understand anything from the information that he had got. Well, he didn't understand how to understand anything in this world now.

Card reading, letters on the mirrors; Tobio dirtied his own reflection with black coal pencils, rubbed dust into the blisters on his fingers and played the same melody in his head again and again. Kageyama dreamed to be sick of Hinata“s laugh, hiding on the bottom oh his mind and still being sonorous to the echo in the bones.  
Tobio trembled with cold on the floor of his room. It felt as if his heart had stuck in the piece of ice, or the piece of ice had stuck in his heart (in the core of it, which had left).

He didn't know, was it normal or not. But he didn't want to know.  
Kageyama closed his ears with hands and made himself listen-listen-listen to the echo in his head. He didn't want to forget.  
I wouldn't happen soon, but, yes, it would happen later. Things like that is always a matter of time, and even the tearful promises will be erased to ashes; there is no eternity for them, about which we swear. You forget the faces of people you loved, forget the voices, which were long, long lines in your soul before. You forget it in pieces. At first, the sense of a person's presence, then the voice, features, eyes, smell.

Smell, which Tobio felt.  
Kageyama had been swallowing the endorphins because of any scanty hint on the flavour of Shouyou before. Now it makes him get sick. Makes him get sick so awful.  
He got sick of happiness. So strange and disfigures.  
As dead as Hinata.

Kageyama had been drawing Shouyou“s features on the mirror, stopping to realise, what figures he saw, how his body's points cracked because of a long pastime on the floor in an embryo posture, in a mentally cripple posture, in an «a half of died with him» posture.  
«if not all of me»  
Yes, Tobio was a hopeless jerk, because he had been staring at the Ouija board, which had been drawn with love on the piece of paper.

He saw himself in the mirror, sitting in the half-light, surrounded by a dozen candles. He saw himself through somebody else's eyes. He saw himself being torn apart, drown in the bags under his eyes, eaten to the depth of his soul by permanent, obsessive disbelief in the reality. Tobio crashed into two or three thousands of pieces; the quarter of them soaked the asphalt with Hinata's blood, and other pieces he just lost.  
And didn't want to seek.

Shouyou wouldn't like Tobio was hurt, but, well, and Tobio, actually, would like Shouyou just be.  
So, «sorry, that it hurts».

He closed his eyes and heard the scream. He opened his eyes and heard the same, like a mantra, like a pray, it was like all his memories had been melted together and got stuck in the phonograph. Kageyama fell asleep. He was woken up and in his ears was only the fucking  
ultrasound.

Tobio didn't say it aloud, he was looking at the slash letters. He wanted to die, because why did he need things to be like that? Why? For what?  
What is the sense to be physically strong, if any mental trauma makes you just a ruin, which doesn't live actually, but exist, which is always pretending, which is a fake, a useless piece of meat. The whole nothing with nothing in the look and a frozen «nothing» between the cracks on lips.

The first Hinata's word was «here».  
He didn't even have to say anything, he could just come in silent and sit in the centre of Tobio's room. There was no need in his «here» because Kageyama had read that world in the air by himself, he'd caught it with tips of his fingers and, probably, lost a few degrees of his body temperature. Tobio didn't need to hear anything, because he had seen everything with his own eyes.

Shouyou had been watching him from the mirror.  
Seemed like death had weaned him from smiling.

Kageyama burned his self-made Ouija board, he melted fucking candles, put on a checkered blanket on the mirror and started to swallow pillows. Sometimes your wishes come true, so you should beg for death carefully.  
Tobio was lying on this bed with his eyes borrowing the white ceiling, he couldn't look away, even if there was a movement so close to him. The movement of the slender fingers, scratching the blanket from the other side, rising a thin fabric.

Kageyama though «here».  
He lowered his look on the mirror in the corner of his room and found out, that blanket still had been on the frame, hiding the glass, solution, silver, copper or chemicals to taste. Tobio swallowed the saliva, which tasted like blood, like Shouyou, his scent, like a huge piece of cold.  
When his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw that the blanket was up a little bit, it was held by slender pale fingers, and someone's stubborn look was shining between the glass and fabric.

Kageyama choked on his panic attacks in silence, he broke them with his own wrists. Sometimes it is better to know something only from book reading, not from your own experience. Tobio threw them out the window with all the stuff, which were connected with Hinata. The bracelet, which he had presented to Kageyama, a scribbled ball, copybooks, a sweater. Photos, cross-eyed souvenir figurines from festivals, some trifles; Kageyama were throwing away all at once. Everything in his room was impregnated with Hinata.  
Even Tobio himself.

And there was only the ultrasound in this ears, only the ultrasound was beating the sky with a glass squeal - the mirror kissed an asphalt and someone screamed in unison with it. Kageyama couldn't hear this scream in his own cry when he was trying to drown his thoughts in a bathroom, erase them from his head with a soak. He was crying so hard at first time for those three months.  
Where were you hiding?  
In what junk or motes to look you for? Tobio crouched at the bottom of the bathtub breathing hard, licking the drops of water coming down on his face. They mixed with tears, with a familiar smell.

«Here».  
The cold fingers pushed on his chest, pointed at the heart. Wet red hair stuck to his shoulders.  
Kageyama didn't turn around.


End file.
